


Inside These Walls

by Willowingends



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Non-Canon Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, Not Epilogue Compliant, Off-screen death, Post Deathly Hallows, Sharing a Bed, harry dies au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:57:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willowingends/pseuds/Willowingends
Summary: After Harry dies in the Battle of Hogwarts, the war doesn't end. The survivors who blow their cover need safe houses. Ginny's safe house is not very big, but at least she isn't left in it alone. But there's a different madness found somewhere safe with someone else.





	Inside These Walls

The war had not ended when Harry had died. Not really. Not truly. Oh Tom believed he had won, believed that he had crushed all resistance that night. Yet if he had, why did he keep the taboo on his chosen name? Why did his followers comb the streets for any hint of the former students of Hogwarts. Why did charmed paintings of phoenixes show up on the walls of abandoned stores, it's wings spreading wide and flames giving a warm glow in the darkness that devoured the world? The war might be over, but the light had not died. And there were many still fighting to bring the world back to a better place. They were simply spread thin, spread far, and hiding in the shadows created by those they would destroy.

 

Ginny kept all this knowledge tucked tight inside her chest. It kept her warm in the night when the wings of the Order spread and lit fires under those who tried to extinguish it. It kept her sure-footed when she stepped out in the daylight, hidden in plain sight under the gaze of Death Eaters and the corrupt Ministry alike. 

 

That warmth also seemed to get her in trouble. Again and again. An identity compromised, a home lost because her warmth fanned itself in to a flame and injustice fell before her wand, before her blazing brown eyes. Again and again she had to come and report to Kingsley, her head held proudly but shame in her eyes. Another advantage lost because her temper always got the best of her.

 

This time she had cursed Dolohov in to two broken legs and a concussion in the middle of the streets of Muggle London. Nevermind he had been torturing a man in broad daylight, never mind she had saved a man's life. The meek ministry worker Janice Hale she had been had been branded a traitor, a threat, and had to disappear.

 

“I will not go to Romania.” Ginny snapped, her arms crossing. “I'm one of your best duelists, I won't be on the continent when I could be needed at any moment.” 

 

Kingsley rubbed his temples, a long sigh escaping him. “It would make your mother and father happier to have you closer to them. And with the emergency portkeys-”

 

“That can be blocked. No. If you're going to send me to a safe house to lie low, then at least make it one in the UK.”

 

The _de facto_ leader of the resistance stared at her firefly for a while and Ginny felt the soft bite of guilt. The man dealt with so much these days, had seen so many friends and companions fall in the past three years since the Battle of Hogwarts. Her being so stubborn and having such a hard time staying undercover must surely take a toll. But she also knew with conviction that she would be needed on the island when everything reached it's climax.

 

“I'll see what I can do, but I make no promises Weasley.” 

 

Her eyes shone brilliantly and she nodded. That was better than being sent away.

 

* * *

 

 

“This, is not the arrangement I had imagined.”

 

Ginny stood in the middle of her new apparent home. At least for the time being. It was what she had requested, a place to stay close to the action. And nothing more than that. A simple little cottage in the middle of nowhere with one bathroom, one bath, one bed.

 

And one other occupant.

 

“It's better than where you were from what I hear.” 

 

Tonks’ smile was as wide as ever, though the glow that used to shine through the woman seemed several shades dimmer now than it had when Ginny had last seen her. Of course, then she had still been glowing with new motherhood and hope for the future. Now she just looked tired and worn from her encounter with near death all those years ago. Ginny wondered what curse could leave someone alive but carrying such a heavy weight. 

 

“Come on Gin, sit, tell me about the world I'm missing out on.”

 

That brought a frown to Ginny's face. She had thought that, after her and Remus both had been shipped away to be healed for the mystery curse placed upon them, that Tonks had gone back to her usual work. Hiding under some disguise or another, finding out information and dealing with rogue Death Eaters who allowed themselves to be killed. She hadn't seen the woman, but then she hadn't thought to see her, had she? Remus had said she was alive and that was all that had mattered to her.

 

“Well, it's shit.” She said honestly as she sat on the bed beside the woman. “Death Eaters and Moldywarts just keep pushing and it's all we can do to push back. We've lost-”

 

“That's not what I was asking.” Tonks said softly, taking Ginny's hand. “I want to know about your world. The things I've not been told because no one thinks of them as important. It's lonely and dull living out here alone.”

 

A small confused wrinkle formed on her forehead as she contemplated the older woman's words. She had always heard stories from Tonks about her auror job, her time as a kid with Andromeda, her time at Hogwarts with Ginny's brothers. She had never thought she would be the one giving entertainment in the form of her own stories.

 

“Oh. Well. I just got out of a ministry job because I cursed someone. Quidditch teams are still going, people are getting distracted by it again. I can't believe that was something I wanted to do when I got out of school.” She tried to fight off the bitter tone, but it was hard. So many futures, so much hope, going right down the drain because of Tom. She dug her fingers in to the sheets of the bed.

 

Tonks’ hand gently came to rest on her hand, freeing her fingers. She patted her hand then and smiled. “Can you think of nothing good?”

 

“Ron and Hermione got married this year.” She said softly, twisting her hand about to hold Tonks' hand loosely. Seeking that human contact she had not realized she had craved. “Harry. He would have been so happy.”

 

Tonks’ smiled softly at Ginny, an echo of sadness in her eyes. An echo of the hollow feeling so many of them still felt. They had been told, prepared, by a number of sources, for Harry to save them, and he had failed. He had tried his best, but still fallen short.

 

“How is Teddy?”

 

The question catches Ginny off guards. “He's not here?”

 

“No. I sent him to live with my mother soon after they brought him to me. It wasn't the life for him. Living in hiding because his parents were supposed to be dead. Because his mother was too weak to be of any use to the Order so she had to be hidden away.” A bitter laugh, a bitter smile accented her words. “I was hoping you had some news from them.”

 

Ginny’s blood ran cold. “Andromeda has been missing for a few years now.” She said softly. “No one, not even Lee, knows where she went.”

 

She can see the blood drain out of Tonks. Her cheeks going white, her eyes paling to a strange silver. For a moment the very roots of her hair go white, but in an instant they're back to the gentle pink they had been a moment before. “I see.” Her words are soft, a whisper, a bare breath of air. “I think that's all I want to hear of the world for the moment. Let me show you the rest of the cottage.”

 

There, of course, was not much of the cottage to show. The bedroom doubled as a study, a desk pushed up against the back corner covered with coded transmissions. “I have been helping the resistance.” Tonks’ words carried a hint of bitterness to them. “With Bellatrix surely being out for my blood if my survival came to light, this is all I've been able to do. Decide who gets what important news, who acts on what. I'm like Kingsley's secretary.” 

 

From there it was a quick tour around the other rooms. The kitchen with a tiny table and two chairs, the bathroom with it's shower, and the small garden in the back. 

 

“I don’t do much gardening, but it's the easiest way to get fresh vegetables and fruit.” Tonks murmured as she leaned against the wooden gate surrounding the small plants. Her eyes still looked pale, distant. Ginny had never lost a child and she wasn't sure how to help. There wasn't any useless platitudes to offer. She couldn't guarantee that Teddy would ever be reunited with Tonks. She couldn't guarantee that the other side would fall and that they would one day be able to return to a normal life.

 

Instead she slipped her hand in to Tonks’. She squeezed gently, grounding the older woman, silently reminding her she wasn't alone. Not anymore.

 

“Show me how to care for them.”

 

* * *

 

 

Originally Ginny had made a pallet on the floor of the bedroom, sleeping at Tonks’ feet even when the former mentor insisted she should have the bed. But as summer bleeds in to autumn, and then autumn gave way to the chill of winter, their arrangement changed. First it was only on the coldest nights that Ginny dared to climb in to the bed with Tonks, careful to keep a shield of blankets between them. Then, slowly, the wall between them stopped existing, soon every night Ginny would wrap her arm around Tonks’ waist, would bury her nose in the soft pink hair, and find comfort in the contact.

 

It made the world feel softer. Safer. There were always reminders of course, of the resistance. Owls brought in letters, codes and missions were separated out and sent by their tiny owl. Ginny learned the codes by Tonks’ side, kept the updates in the back pocket of her mind. 

 

And every day she knew they both quietly thanked Merlin that those who died were not the ones closest to them. 

 

The days bleed in to weeks the weeks to months, and soon enough two years passed in the cottage. A flurry of gardening, preparing for the winter, learning canning spells for their crops. The life in the cottage was boring, yes, but also domestic. Pleasant. As time wore on, they both became more comfortable exploring the woods around their cottage. With no danger sighted nearby, and with someone now to watch their backs, they could venture in to the mockery of freedom.

 

However, peace and happiness had no time in a war.

  
  


The usual owl fluttered in and landed on Ginny's lap instead of Tonks’ desk. The two women froze, laughter dying on their lips. All joking plans of Ginny's upcoming birthday gone in that moment. The breathless laughter turned to breathless fear. 

 

Tonks was kneeling before her in an instant, tan hands resting on top of the letter. “Let me read it first.” She whispered, pleaded.

 

“No. It's for me.” Ginny's voice had a far off quality to her own ears. There was a pounding in her head, in her heart. A torrential downpour beating at the walls of her mind, waiting for a crack to burst the dam.

 

She had dealt with evil, cruel writings before. She could deal with this one.

 

Hands shaking, she pulled the letter away from Tonk and unfolded the envelope. There was no formal code, no lengthy essay. Just a simple paragraph that told her all she needed to know.

 

_ Kingsley and Charlie are dead. We will contact when it is safe again. Good luck _ .

 

The sob that rends the air is not hers. Ginny looked up, her bones hollow, her skin paper. Tonks' hands were clasped over her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks and broken sounds escaping her. Her hair had gone ghost white, her body shaking.

 

Ginny felt like a shadow, a dark and still wraith in comparison. 

 

She stood slowly, the parchment fluttering from her hands to the floor. She reached forward with no clear intent, but she pulls Tonks’ wet hands from her face. Silently she lead her to the bedroom, laid her down on the bed, and curled around her.

 

She could feel Tonks tremble against her, feel her sobs shake her own still body. She could hear the other woman's grief in the core of her body, but she could not summon any tears herself. Long after Tonks has sobbed herself to sleep, her exhausted face covered in half-dried tears and drool from her screaming sobs, Ginny lies awake.

 

The sun is a soft grey in the morning when her still open eyes greet it.

 

It is her birthday, and she does not feel alive.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day Tonks told Ginny stories from her and Charlie's days at Hogwarts. Of multiple pranks, of racing each other on brooms. Tonks laughs and smiles sadly as she regaled the story of raiding the kitchens, of organizing sleepovers in the greenhouses.

 

Ginny summons a ghost of a smile, and Tonks hugs her close.

 

Tonks has mourned losing a loved one before in solitude. She knows how to cope. Ginny finds the way the woman returns back to their solitary life startling, scary. Amazing.

 

The next letter tells them it is not safe for them to return. 

 

Tonks shook her head as she reads the letter, her eyes flashing red. She turns and stalks out of the cottage. When she returned that night she cups Ginny's face in her hands and kisses her hard.

 

It is an empty kiss. There is no warmth. There is nothing that Ginny shamelessly dreamed about only a few months ago.  There is only a cold need to be connected to another human being.

 

Tonks guides her to the bed that night, and they curl up under the sheets. There is no shyness as they cling to each other.

 

The kisses grow more frequent. Their hands explore each other as they tangle their legs tighter. When Tonks crawls between her thighs Ginny feels fire race through her body for the first time since the letter, and her voice finally climbs above the hollow whisper as she finds herself falling over the edge of a cliff as Tonks’ fingers find a spot inside her that let's her breathe again.

 

It does not start with love, but with a desperate need to be reminded they are alive and together.

 

That they are not alone.

 

It becomes a habit, as life returns to their small cottage. They spend the day deciding the few and far letters, they tend to the garden, they kiss over breakfast. They venture just a little but further beyond the woods as their steady supply of meats dwindles with the news from the outside world. A farm lies just beyond and it only takes Ginny a few tries to snatch a chicken from the coops and bring it home with her.

 

Now they have eggs. In time, they befriend the isolated muggle family that own the farm. They are just like them in a way. Walled off from the world, content to live apart. Eeking out a living in the meager happiness they have found. Tonks trades vegetables and herbs with them in exchange for milk. Ginny gives them her labor in return for meats.

 

It is an odd and new way of living for both of them. 

 

There is a comfort in it. In homesteading, in forging out a life where there is nothing clinging to them but half remembered memories of a time outside of this one. Of a life filled with darker times. Tonks finds herself crying some evenings after she has seen Ginny playing with the kids of the farmers, but there’s a strange hollowness that follows the tears. As though there is something she has willfully forgotten, to pained to remember.

 

The letters stop coming, the owl hunts their mice and nothing more. Magic falls from their fingertips in an instinctual manner, no wands are needed any more. 

 

They have continued on without the world. The only adventure left for them is the one they explore together in their shared bed.

  
  



End file.
